The Hidden Puppeteers Poem by Mal Sealy

The creators, for so many.
The Be-end for all.
bleedingly innocent destruction...
Timed organised designed, selfishness..
Limited tribalism..
Constructed routes 2 dimensionally commissioned.
Soul- lost at sea treasure...
Legally corrupted, sunken
Covered messes..
The end game... Glimpses seen..
Skillfully hidden, wearers in darkened clothe...re-tweeking/working
At all cost.... Blocked, turned away belatedly...
Diverted until matrixed bills exhausted...
Tools aged, perfected irony not lost
Eons of truth reversed for a few...
The messes once walked tall..
Shakingingly strong resilient
Individuals stoically moulded..
wHoly Ball deep cellular conduits..
Collectively individually wired in..
Above and below, Us, you